A STARSKY THANKSGIVING
by Vanessa Sgroi
Summary: Starsky decides to have Thanksgiving at his place. Little does he know what it entails.


Disclaimer: The characters from Starsky & Hutch don't belong to me. I'm just having a little fun.

A STARSKY THANKSGIVING

By: Vanessa Sgroi

The knock sounded at Dave Starsky's door precisely at 7:00 a.m. He set his mug of steaming coffee down on the crowded counter and padded to the door. Ken Hutchinson stood on the other side, his arms filled with grocery bags.

"Good, you're here! Now we can get started!"

"You won't mind if I don't take you up on your order."

Starsk stared blankly at the other man. "Huh?"

Ken pointed a finger at the apron his partner wore. It was emblazoned with the words "Kiss the Cook!"

As he moved aside to let Hutch through the door, David glanced down and growled, "Oh, that. I just borrowed it from my neighbors for the day. Besides, I'm hoping Caryn will take me up on the offer."

"Better her than Huggy Bear," teased the blond detective, "Who else is coming today?" Hutch settled the two brown grocery bags on the counter.

"Let's see, there's me and Caryn. You and Melanie . . ."

"Melody."

"Okay, Melody. Huggy Bear and Yolanda. Anton. Larry and R.C."

"What? Only nine of us at a table? That's bad karma, you know?"

"It is? Really?"

"Nah, not really. I'm just messin' with you."

Starsky looked at his partner with suspicion.

"Speaking of tables," Hutch said, "where are we all going to sit?"

"Oh, I borrowed one. I need you to go pick it up."

Hutch rolled his eyes, but asked, "When and where?"

"You know Charlie in Property? His place—he's over on the corner of Central and Wilson. He'll be there around ten." Dave picked up his mug and took a sip. "You want some coffee?"

"Yeah, sure."

Dave grabbed a blue stoneware mug from the cupboard, filled it with the hot brew, and handed it to the other man.

"So did you bring everything I told you?"

"Of course. I got two boxes of stuffing mix, a bag of frozen corn, five pounds of potatoes, two jars of gravy. Oh, and Tofurky."

"Toe what?" Dave shot his partner a dubious look.

"Tofurky. Tofu turkey. For me and Melody. Or anyone else who would like some."

Starsky wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Well, you can count me out on that one."

"You should try it, you might like it."

Dave snorted, "Yeah, right," and put the bag of frozen corn in the freezer. "Huggy's bringing some "World Famous Black-eyed Peas", his words not mine. Yolanda insists on bringing a pumpkin pie."

Hutch nodded. "That oughta do it."

"Oh, I got ice cream too."

"Ice cream's good." Hutch's eyes held a covetous gleam. For all his health food nuttiness, ice cream was his definite vice.

"So what do we do first?"

Ken glanced at his watch. "I guess you need to get the turkey in the oven."

Nodding, Starsky pulled the 20 pound turkey from the fridge and Hutch whistled. "Why the heck did you buy such a big bird?"

"I like leftovers," grunted the dark-haired man as he dropped the turkey in the sink. Grabbing scissors, he slit the plastic wrapping. Extracting the turkey, he moved it to the large roasting pan sitting on top of the stove.

"Uh . . . Starsk? Aren't you going to get the stuff out?"

"Huh?"

"You gotta get the organs from inside the bird."

Dave Starsky stared at his partner in disbelief.

"You want me to stick my hand WHERE?"

Ken sighed patiently before answering, "Inside the turkey carcass."

"And you want me to pull out WHAT?"

"The heart, liver, gizzards, and neck."

"Eeewww. That's gross. Just gross."

"Aww, c'mon, Starsky—you can't be squeamish! You're a cop!"

"Yeah, but I'm tellin' ya, Hutch, this is different."

"How?"

"I . . . I . . . I don't know it just is! You do it."

"Uh uh."

"Why not?" Dave's voice was dangerously close to a whine.

"This whole dinner was your idea so you get the pleasure."

"But . . . but . . ."

"No way."

"Okay, fine!" Starsky stared at the turkey sitting in the pan before him. Biting his lower lip, he reluctantly sunk his hand into the nether regions of the carcass. _Oh, man. This is disgusting. Ugh. Eeewww. What is that mushy stuff?_ He glared over at his very unhelpful partner. He slowly pulled out the bagged organs and the neck.

"Do I need these?"

"Nope."

Dave dropped the stuff in the garbage.

"Now what?"

"Rinse it off and throw some salt, pepper, and a little garlic powder on it. Then stick it in the oven."

In just a few more minutes, the beleaguered detective finally had the bird safely in the oven.

After washing his hands, he downed the rest of his now cool coffee.

"Now what?" he mumbled.

"How about I start peeling potatoes and _you_ go clean up this mess you call an apartment. AND make room for that table I have to pick up."

The two men set about their tasks. At 9:30 a.m., Hutch left to pick up the table. While he was gone, Starsky decided to give his mother a quick call. The first several minutes of the call was filled with his mother's chatter about the recent antics of various family members.

"Yeah, Mom. Uh huh. Uh huh. I just called to say Happy Thanksgiving. Yeah, Mom, I know Aunt Mabel loves your sweet potatoes. Uh huh. Yeah, and Uncle Mel always drinks a little too much wine. Listen, Ma . . . Mom . . . I have to go. I just wanted to say Happy Thanksgiving. Uh huh. Don't worry I'm having dinner with friends. No, no—I'M cooking. Hey . . . Hey, why are you laughing? Yeah, well, my cooking will be just fine. Uh huh. Nevermind. Listen, I gotta run. Tell everyone I said hi."

Starsky hung up the phone just as Hutch returned with Charlie Stevens' folding table.

"Hey, Starsk, I brought some of Charlie's chairs too. You wanna grab 'em from the car?"

While Dave grabbed the four folding chairs, Hutch set up the table in the back of the living room. When the other man returned with the chairs, the two men arranged the folding chairs, Starsky's own table chairs, and a counter stool around the large borrowed table. It was a mishmash but at least all nine people could sit at the same table.

Shortly thereafter, Huggy Bear and Yolanda arrived.

"Huggy Bear has arrived with THE very best Black-eyed Peas and Bacon you all will ever taste. Now THAT'S something to be thankful for!" Huggy swept into the apartment in his typically grand manner. A smiling Yolanda followed. Both were instructed to leave their meal contributions on the kitchen counter.

"Starsky, Miss Yo-laannnda would like to commandeer your television to watch the rest of Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade IF you don't mind."

"Huggy," Starsky grinned, "are you sure it's YOLANDA who wants to watch the parade?"

"But of course. To avoid that particular torture, this Huggy Bear has brought his own, much more palatable, entertainment." Huggy held up his radio earphones. "Unless, of course, the master chef needs help in the kitchen."

"No, no I got it under control. In fact, Hutch is just getting ready to set the table."

"I am?"

"You are." Dave rummaged in the kitchen for a moment and came back with a package of Chinet heavy-duty paper plates. "Here."

Donning an affronted look, Hutch said, "Tsk, tsk. Paper plates, Starsk? I'm disappointed."

"Hey, they're the good paper plates! Just put 'em out on the table. Make sure you put down ten of them."

"Ten?"

"Yeah, I'm hoping to avoid that whole bad karma thing you mentioned earlier."

"So does this mean we're using paper towels for napkins?"

"Napkins? Napkins? Oh, man—I forgot about napkins."

"Never fear Huggy Bear is here!" The skinny black man jumped up off the couch. "Napkins are one thing I have a lot of at the bar. I'll go get some."

While Huggy Bear was out running his errand, Caryn and Melody arrived within minutes of each other. Caryn slipped into the kitchen and kissed the cook, exactly as Dave was hoping she would. Starsky good-naturedly rebuffed her offer of help, and she returned to the living room, joining Melody and Yolanda on the couch.

Another knock at the door brought Anton Rusz into the gathering.

"Hey, Anton," greeted Hutch, "come in and have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Yes, please, do you have some coffee?" asked the older gentleman.

"Sure thing. One coffee coming up. Does anyone else need anything?"

Before anyone had a chance to answer, Huggy Bear sauntered through the door with a package of napkins. "Look who I found coming up the walk." Huggy waved a hand behind him, indicating Larry and R.C., the last to invitees to the Thanksgiving celebration.

Ken walked up to the two men, who were both deaf and mute. He spoke slowly in greeting so that Larry and R.C. could read his lips. Gesturing to the couch, he invited them to have a seat and asked them if they wanted anything to drink.

"Okay, that's one coffee for Anton and two sodas for Larry and R.C. Anything else?"

"Hutch, my man," Huggy Bear started, "here are the napkins as requested. And while I was down at the bar, I decided to also bring this if anyone is so inclined as to have some." He held out a bottle of California Chardonnay.

"Well, alright, Huggy! This will be perfect with dinner. Do you want anything now?"

Huggy Bear shook his head no so Hutch headed for the kitchen.

"HEY, Starsk, any coffee . . ."

Hutch's unexpected arrival in the kitchen startled Dave, who was right in the middle of whipping the mashed potatoes with a mixer. Unthinkingly, he lifted the beaters from the bowl and creamy white globs of mashed potatoes went flying, striking a myriad of surfaces. One glob landed on Hutch's chin before Starsky managed to get the mixer turned off.

Looking around at the mess, Hutch grumbled, "Um, I bet you wish we'd accepted Mrs. Dobey's invitation now, huh?"

Starsky half-glared at his partner. Grabbing a dish towel, he tossed it to the other man. "Just clean. What'd you come barreling in here for anyway?"

Hutch wiped his chin and started wiping cupboard doors. "Anton wants coffee and I need two sodas for Larry and R.C."

"Oh. Okay. Get their drinks then. I'll finish wiping up the mess. Tell everyone that dinner's ready in about ten minutes."

In reality the ten minutes was closer to twenty, but soon everyone was seated around the table. The table was soon laden with a bounty of food. The last dish carried out was the Tofurky, which Hutch placed near Melody.

Anton asked if he could say grace and everyone happily agreed. When he finished, Dave began passing dishes of food.

"Hey, Starsk, you gonna try some of the Tofurky? It can't be beat."

"Uh uh. No way. Look at that stuff—it jiggles!"

"Ahh, c'mon," goaded Hutch, "Be brave."

"All right. Fine. Drop a spoonful on my plate."

Dave picked up his fork and poked at the suspicious gelatinous lump. Finally, he scooped up a bite and shoved it in his mouth. After a few seconds he managed to swallow it, but with difficulty. He grabbed his glass of wine and gulped, washing away the lingering aftertaste.

"Wow. That's . . . that's . . . umm . . . different."

"Want some more?"

"NO! Uh, I mean, no, thank you, I'd prefer plain old white meat turkey if you don't mind."

From the other end of the table, Larry began making hand gestures indicating he wanted something to write on. Starsky grabbed a pad of paper and pen off of an end table and passed it down to the man. Larry scribbled out a quick message and held up the pad.

_Can I make a toast?_

A chorus of voices issued a resounding yes.

Larry thought for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration. Then he wrote another message on the paper.

_To great friends and good food. Who could ask for anything more? God Bless us all!_

The nine people at the table smiled, raised their glasses, and enthusiastically echoed the toast.

O-O The End O-O


End file.
